I loathe long flights.

Dear United Airlines,

Your leg room blows.  If you are not going to provide more than 1/2 inch of space past the knees of a short person, you should disable the recliner.  No one sleeps comfortably anyway, why not spare the person who’s already been fucked by being assigned to the middle seat of a row of five seats on an 11 hour flight during which many people sleep?

Love, Sara

Also ended up seated right in the middle of a returning mission trip.  The guys on one side kept talking about “Crusade” in a way that made it sound like a proper noun, and on the other side I overheard this gem of a conversation, although one girl did most of the talking:

“Have I ever told you about my dream to be famous … Like, the idea  of being famous in a godlike example.  My roomate’s semi-famous. [some talk about commercials] … not to be prideful in my boldness, but I have a boldness … I like the idea of being friends with famous people … If I was [sic] famous I’d probably be rich and I like the idea of  being able to really give … and I know I’d never get caught up in that kind of lifestyle … I just can’t even describe to you how much I love acting.  The feeling of the lights on you when you’re on stage.  It’s the most intense bodily experience I’ve ever had besides the holy spirit.  … I could do American Idol in the fall, but I don’t know.  I’d never do American Idol.  You have to sign your life away.  I’d have to give them like 20% if I became famous with American Idol.

Her humility is staggering.

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